Sancho profligate Panza I know you
as well as I know the back of my hand,
spinnaker Quixote is billowing out
to enfold the pregnancies of the wind

the world's on its way not knowing its way,
never knowing where it's going or why,
no milling the wind, no willing the wind,
o, poor Pancho your Don is resolute

o, poor Pancho, your Don is dissolute
not knowing what he does, not knowing why,
he's prophet without honor lost at sea,
the tale of Quixote is billowing out

Sancho profligate Panza you are spent
following your Don as I follow you